The earth danced below her feet and she relished in the warmth of the summer greens, slipping in between her toes and caressin
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot & all the character's of Bailetha!! Please don't sue me. Eep.
A/N: My first Narnia fic!! I was inspired by the Caspian movie, which I've already seen twice in theatres. Mwhahaha.I hope you enjoy. Constructive criticism is most appreciated.
The earth danced below her feet and she relished in the warmth of the summer greens, slipping in between her toes and caressing the rough flesh that was the bottom of her foot. She loved this escape, this wonder when she could for a few moments leave behind the work of the day, the labor that came entitled with being a servant girl. The night sky glittered above her, and she wished for a moment that a cool wind could just pick her up and carry her somewhere else. Ever since she was a child she had heard stories of the beauties and glories of far away lands, and she desperately wished to visit these places. Generation after generation passed down tale after tale of the glories of a kingdom called Narnia, but she could barely believe the myths anymore. Having spent the last eighteen years of her life in the small and embittered kingdom of Bailetha, a place as magical as Narnia just felt like a cruel joke.
No. Narnia didn't exist, and even if it did there was no way a poor and dirty servant girl in the palace of the King and Queen of Bailetha would ever get to enjoy its' riches and natural jewels of the earth. So for now, Nell Crewe would just enjoy the calm of the night, the few minutes when she could just be at peace with herself, when she wasn't being ordered about.
Nell found refuge with the summer night, and laid her body on the warm grass, spreading out unapologetically. Her long dark tresses, falling to her elbows when not tied back in a gruelingly tight braid, were let loose and spread about her. She stared up at the twinkling skies, wondering desperately in her heart if that same night sky stretched far out to another kingdom, with another pair of eyes staring below its blanket of darkness and beauty.
She was not meant for this kingdom—this servanthood. Nell knew in her heart she would break out of the chains of Bailetha, even if it killed her.
Nursing a small smile on her full lips, Nell closed her eyes and dreamed the ache of hard labor away that pressed throughout her body. For a few minutes she could disappear; for a few moments Nell could forget and surrender to her dreams.
Peter Pevensie felt the moist dew seep into the back of his embroidered tunic, but he paid no mind to the wetness that was no doubt staining his shirt. After hours and hours of slaving over paperwork and council meetings all day, the High King finally had a chance to sneak out of Care Paravel and find refuge within the thick summer air. Lately the role of High King had been really getting to him. After all, he was only twenty one years old. Most lads his age would be fretting over their final examinations, not bearing the responsibility of an entire kingdom and the lives of every resident of Narnia. Sometimes, it just got to be a bit too heavy, no matter how broad Peter's shoulders had gotten from all the sword fighting and battles he'd been in over the years.
Sometimes, when Peter was alone much like he was tonight, his mind would drift to the world he and his siblings had come from. No way did he ever wish he could switch back to the way the Pevensie children used to live, but the thought of returning always nagged him in the stomach. He never wanted to leave, he was not ready to leave, and yet somehow he doubted their residence in Narnia was permanent. He wished Aslan was around to help him sort out his complex and rather irritating emotions, but Peter hadn't seen the powerful lion since almost five years ago when he'd been crowned High King.
Sighing, Peter sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, making his golden tresses stand even more on end than usual. He glanced back to the palace, and felt a warm grin placed on his face. Care Paravel had been his home for awhile, and he loved every second of it. Yet he just felt so thoroughly exhausted all the time and hated it. It was getting harder and harder to hide his solemn moods from his siblings; Susan had a wicked keen eye when it came to her elder brother.
Yet Peter had so much to be thankful for, and truly blamed his dark moods on just growing up and experiencing maturities far beyond his age. Having killed men in battle, not only Peter but Edmund and Susan too had lost their innocence long ago. Lucy seemed to be the only one with any ounce of purity left, and even she was growing older and wiser each day. She was no longer a child; while still young at age thirteen, she was much wiser beyond her years.
Peter stood up slowly, reluctant to leave the silent refuge of the night, and wiped off the backs of his trousers, heading back to the palace. It was no help to his exhaustion, these late nights under the glistening sky. He tried desperately to shake off the bouts of loneliness weighing heavily on his heart, but it was useless. Why did he feel so lonely all the time? He was constantly in the company of his siblings, of his council, and of his subjects.
And yet while continuously in the midst of a large crowd, the High King of Narnia found himself lonelier than he had ever been in the entirety of his life.
"Nell, quit yer bloody day-dreamin' and hand me that chicken!"
Nell snapped out of her momentary gaze and cringed when she saw the look on Archlen's face. Archlen was a rough and cruel man, the head of the servants in the kitchens and stables. He had never taken a liking to Nell, and while she had been initially intimidated by him, Nell had learned over the years to just tune him out completely. Though this method often resulted in her zoning out for several minutes at a time, which severely aggravated Archlen.
Pushing wisps of curls that fell into her face, coming loose from her braid, Nell passed Archlen the dead and plucked chicken. During the week Nell worked in the kitchens in the morning and at night, and in the afternoon in the stables. On the weekends she was on palace duties, cleaning the many rooms of the Bailetha palace, keeping the fires alive, such mundane chores made up her life.
Out of all her chores, Nell loved working the stables in the afternoon the best. Archlen was usually pre-occupied with preparing the palace dinner, and Nell could be left alone with the horses of Bailetha. They were utter beauties, strong and tame yet with a glint of wildness in their eyes. She loved the freedom within their steps, the way they moved across open pastures and through the woods in a flash. She longed to be carried off on one of them, off far away. To a place where no one knew her, where she could forget all about Bailetha and how each day in this Godforesaken kingdom she felt more and more like nothing, nothing but the dirt beneath each noblemen's boot. One day, she vowed to herself. Brace yourself Nell. Be strong. One day you'll forget all about this place.
It was a struggle every day to just find worth in herself, and Nell hated Bailetha for that. She had no family here, no relations, not one connection to anything in this decrepit village. She had been on her own for as long as she lived, and couldn't remember ever wearing anything besides torn and tattered work dresses, boots that were too tight and suffocated her feet; she couldn't even remember the last time she washed her hair, or ate until she was full. She was skinny and dirty, not healthy in the least bit. She looked more like an awkward boy than a woman of eighteen. The only thing in her appearance that hinted at her age was her long hair and face; while her body was shrunken from lack of food and too much work, her hair was thick and bountiful, and though her face was sallow from lack of nutrition, she was not a monster.
Though every day she felt like it. A rat monster of some sort that was not worth anything, and her plain features only added to that factor.
Nell stared down at her bloody and dirty hands from just having plucked every single chicken feather out of the animal, and desperately craved a warm bath. But the craving was only an instant, for there was still work to be done before she could retreat to her duties in the stables. Nell grabbed the next chicken to de-pluck before Archlen could yell at her again.
Only an hour longer, and once again she could try and escape from the shit hole that was her life.
The last thing Peter wanted to do was leave the warmth of his feathered down sheets and bedding, but the sunlight seemed to think there was more to the day than snoozing it away. Screwing up his eyes against the sunlight, Peter let out a large yawn and stretched his lanky body along the length of his canopied bed. Shirtless, sleeping only in a pair of cotton night trousers, Peter slowly crawled out of bed, making his way slowly across his bedchamber and over to his large master window. Pulling back the curtains, he breathed in the scent of the new day and was once again mystified by the beauty that was Narnia. He watched the ocean stretch for miles and had a bizarre urge to fling himself in the center of the sea, surrendering completely to the depths of its beauty.
But, as always, there were more important matters to attend to as High King, than standing half-naked, day dreaming about deep sea swimming. Today, Peter reluctantly remembered, was a social luncheon between the court of Care Paravel and the kingdom of Elwyna, the closest neighboring kingdom to Narnia. The luncheon had been scheduled months ago, a rather boring (in Peter's opinion) tradition that had been going on for the past five years. It was more or less just a luncheon to keep peace with the two kingdoms and to keep up on any current matters and politics. While Peter found it useless to waste half a day on gossiping with another kingdom when all matters of politics could be easily handled by letter, Susan had insisted it was very important to keep good relations with your neighbors.
"You never know when you might need your allies Peter," Susan had said pointedly five years ago, when a much more immature Peter had rolled his eyes at the luncheon proposition. Over the years Peter had grown used to the luncheons. They usually happened once a month with alternating kingdoms. Elwyna was a lovely kingdom, and Narnia and Elwyna's relationship was a solid and good one. Truth be told, Peter hated the luncheons for a much pettier reason. He knew the King and Queen of Elwyna had a nineteen year old daughter, and they were eager for an allied marriage to occur between Princess Alba and the High King of Narnia. Ever since he was crowed at sixteen, the King and Queen of Elwyna had been desperately trying to get Peter to court Princess Alba.
Peter was not in the interest of marriage at all—if he had it his way, he'd remain a bachelor his whole life. He was not a romantic, and while he didn't mind the occasional dance with a pretty maiden, or even the occasional snog, dating was just not high on his list of priorities. Truth be told, he had just not found his match yet. The women in the court of all the surrounding kingdoms were all the same; young, flighty maidens who all looked at Peter as eye-candy. If he was to settle down he wanted it to be with a girl who challenged him, who was intelligent and had opinions, and who could hold a conversation for more than ten minutes. After all that he and his siblings had been through, he could just not imagine settling down with a two-dimensional girl.
Sighing and aggravated at his jumbled thoughts, Peter turned from the window and the sea and went to dress. The sooner the luncheon began, the sooner it would all be over.
"Susan, tell me again why these little luncheons are just so important for Narnia?"
Susan looked at her older brother with a small smile on her lips as she continued to wave and smile at their guests which were beginning to file into the dining room. The luncheon was held in one of the smaller dining rooms, a circular room that was decorated beautifully by Susan and Lucy.
"Peter, must I tell you again the importance of good rela—"
"Good relationships, I know," Peter grumbled, offering a brilliant smile to a duke and his lady that had just entered arm in arm. "It's just, if Princess Alba does not stop staring at me, I think my hair is going to fall out."
Susan laughed as Peter felt a hand clap down on his shoulder. The other Pevensie boy had come between his siblings. At eighteen, Edmund stood almost as tall as his brother, but not quite. He had definitely grown into his dark looks, and was quite popular among the ladies of the royal courts.
"You know Pete, I don't know what you have against Princess Alba," Edmund said good-naturedly, offering the Princess a sly smile to which she returned, though her eyes flicked automatically to Peter. It was obvious she was not listening to the young maiden who was chatting excitedly in her left ear. "She's incredibly good-looking. You would look good together."
Peter rolled his eyes. "It's not her looks," Peter muttered, glancing quickly at the Princess. And that was true. On the contrary, Alba was magnificently beautiful, and was known in the lands for her captivating beauty. With her long, golden mane and vibrant emerald eyes, she was all but bewitching. And yet when Peter looked at her, his heart didn't race uncontrollably, he didn't even feel a mild flutter in his belly. If anything, he was merely sexually attracted to what was her outer shell, but she was just another woman to him. He had tried countless times to make conversation with her, but she was only interested in gossiping and herself.
"It's just," Peter continued, turning swiftly away from Alba before she got the wrong idea of his stare. "The girl can't hold a conversation for more than a few minutes. And somehow, miraculously, the conversation always turns back to her. She doesn't even have one clue about what the state of her kingdom is, and I don't even think she has any inkling of what politics are at all."
Edmund rolled his eyes, pushing up the sleeves of his emerald tunic. He scratched his head, giving Alba another glance and letting out a low whistle. "You're a fool mate," he said, shaking his head. "If I were you, I'd milk the attention for all it's worth. Hell, what could be so bad about waking up to next to that every morning? You are insane to let that slip by."
Peter rolled his eyes as Susan gave Edmund a little nudge in the shoulder. "You know Ed, there's more to a woman than what meets the eye." Edmund gave a little chuckle, moving to a table laden with treats and where he began chatting it up with some of his noblemen friends.
Susan turned to her older brother and give him a warm grin. "I'm sorry you have to deal with the pestering of King Larce and Queen Nibora, but I truly believe these luncheons are worth it." Pete gave a little grunt and Susan squeezed his arm affectionately. "And if it's worth anything, I don't think you're crazy for not being interested in Princess Alba. She is quite a flake indeed." Peter laughed lightly at his sister's blunt words and Susan saddled off to entertain the guests before the main course was served.
Peter was seriously contemplating sneaking off to his bedroom or out to his cove by the sea when he caught sight of King Larce and Queen Nibora approaching him, determination set in their glistening eyes. Peter inwardly groaned, but he felt a twinge of guilt. They were truly lovely people and incredible leaders, and Peter sort of looked to them as mentors in a sense, but not entirely. Though Peter may have only been a year over twenty, and though he often dreaded the mundane aspects of social gatherings (which, he had to admit, was a bit immature), he was a much finer king than men double his age. His loyalty and justice was evident in every move he made as the High King, and the subjects of Narnia looked up to him immensely.
But that still did not make the current predicament any better. He offered the elder king and queen a radiant grin, sincerely delighted to see them, though a pit of dread was forming in his stomach for he knew the true reasons behind their eagerness to talk to him.
"Your highnesses," Peter said in a rich voice, bowing deeply and sweeping his arm forward in a most regal fashion. "I hope to find you both in good health?"
King Larce offered a bow to Peter as Queen Nibora held out her hand royally. After the customary introductions and salutations were through, Larce and Nibora cut right to the chase, taking Peter a bit by surprise. Usually it wasn't until halfway through poached quail that Larce and Nibora began to the marriage attack.
"King Peter!" King Larce said jovially. He was a rather large man, sporting a brilliant gray beard and a jolly laugh never far from his lips. "You are at such a ripe age nowadays. What fun I would have had at your age had I possessed your fine looks!"
Peter grinned lazily, quite flattered yet at the same time firmly on guard. He would not succumb to their compliments and he would not court Princess Alba, no matter how fond he was of her parents. "Your highness, I am sure you were quite the popular one," Peter said friendly, and Queen Nibora offered a little scoff.
"Oh please darling," she said, giving her husband a twinkling glance. "You were always stumbling over your words in my presence! Why, I don't think you even looked me in the eye until a week after we were married."
"Ah yes," King Larce said, reeling in the bait his wife had just fed him. Peter had to admit, they were pretty skillful schemers. "Young marriage, those were the best years of my life. We were about Peter's age, weren't we my lovely?"
Peter almost let out his groan this time.
"Yes, indeed we were," said Nibora in a smooth voice. "Perhaps even younger. Your highness, have you considered marriage at all since you've been crowned High King of Narnia?"
"It's something I have not had time to ponder," Peter said politely. He tried to add a bit of an edge to his voice, as if to close the matter, but Larce wasn't having any of it.
"Your highness, if you don't mind my boldness," Larce began, glancing over at his daughter who was dramatically laughing and flicking her hair, grabbing every young man's attention in the room besides Peter's. "But I daresay you cannot disagree that my daughter Princess Alba is quite beautiful?"
Peter had to choose his words carefully. He could not deny Alba's beauty, for that would be like denying the fact that the sky was blue. "Princess Alba is quite beautiful indeed," Peter began. "I just don't—"
"She would make a fine wife, I presume!" King Larce said, laughing hopefully. "My kind sir, have you ever considered—"
"PETER!"
King Larce was cut off abruptly as Lucy came barreling toward the trio, causing Peter to look at his sister in alarm. It was not like Lucy to disrupt Peter's conversations, especially with a king of an alliance. And yet he could not help but feel a bit saved.
"Lucy, what is it?" Peter asked seriously. "Is something wrong?"
Lucy curtsied gracefully to Larce and Nibora, pushing her brown hair behind her ears. "Pardon me, your highnesses, but I must speak to my brother urgently. I promise I'll return him in a flash."
"Of course, of course! We'll be here all afternoon!" King Larce said happily, taking another goblet of wine for his wife and himself, and the two no doubt began discussing other schemes to get their daughter and Peter married.
Once Lucy had led Peter to the hall outside the room, Peter took Lucy by the shoulders. "Lu, what is it?"
Lucy's eyes were alive with something mischievous and she offered him a small grin. "You looked as if you were about to pass out talking to Larce and Nibora," she said happily, so as not be overheard. "I thought you could use a bit of an alleviation."
Peter had never loved his sister more. He smiled down at Lucy, giving her hair a tousle much to her protests. "Lu, you are completely brilliant. If I ever deny you opinions on our battle strategies, you have my permission to kick me squarely in the shin."
Lucy laughed, sliding down to the floor and staring up at the ceiling. There was something dark in her usually bright eyes, and Peter could help but not notice his sister looking slightly perturbed. He slid down beside her, their shoulders touching, though Lucy's shoulder only came up to right above Peter's elbow.
"Do you think we'll see him again?" Lucy asked softly. Peter didn't have to ask who Lucy was talking about it. It was a question that lingered in his mind every day, and one that did not have an answer. He felt the sadness and loneliness in Lucy's heart, and it weighed against him heavily. He hated seeing his sister this way. That was one of Peter's weaknesses. No matter what the true reason was, whenever one of his siblings or someone he loved dearly hurt, he automatically felt as if it was his fault and it ate away at him.
He glanced down at his young sister and sighed raggedly. "I dunno Lu. That's something I think about every day, and no matter how I look about it, I can't seem to find an answer."
"I just didn't think we'd be totally alone all these years, you know?" Lucy said quietly. Peter could her the conflict in her voice. She loved Aslan more than anything and would never wish to doubt him, and yet she could not help but feel abandoned. "I haven't seen him since our first night in Care Paravel. But I know he's here, I know he's always here. I don't need to see him to believe it."
Peter looked down at the young queen, draping an arm around her small shoulders. He truly admired Lucy; there had been many times where she was much braver than himself, and all three elder Pevensie children combined. He hated seeing her blue like this.
"I know he'll come back Lucy," Peter said warmly, trying to put some reassurance back in her eyes. Though it was quite hard when Peter wasn't even sure himself. "He's Aslan. You know he works in mysterious ways."
Lucy smiled up at Peter, a bit of laughter in her eyes. "Much like Larce and Nibora!" Peter rolled his eyes as Lucy giggled. "They really want you to like their daughter, don't they?"
Peter leaned his head against the wall. "Yes, and unfortunately they can't seem to grasp the fact that I am just not interested."
Lucy furrowed her brows in contemplation, hugging her knees. "I don't think you need a girlfriend Peter. I think Edmund looks silly going out with a different girl each weekend. It gives the impression he's a flake."
Peter laughed, seeing Lucy's point. But Edmund didn't seem to give a rat's tail about what people thought about him and his weekend festivities, and Peter had to admire that. "I don't think I need a girlfriend either. Not when I already have my two amazing sisters in my life."
That seemed to cheer Lucy up immensely. Just then, the large chamber door swung open and a rather angry and annoyed Susan emerged from the dining room, looking down at her siblings with a scold most evident on her usually gentle features.
"What exactly do you think you two are doing!" She whispered in a hushed voice, the anger seeping through every syllable. "You left me alone in there with Ed to host, and he hasn't even left the treat table!"
Peter and Lucy looked at each other and cracked a grin, deciding it was best to come to Susan's aid and try and enjoy the rest of the luncheon. Though Peter had a inkling that it would be hard to enjoy a lunch where he spent the entire time dodging a king and queen.
Nell didn't mind the smell of the stables. Growing up in filth, she had developed a kind of immunity in her nostrils. She could easily bare the stench of horses and manure mixed with stale straw if it meant she didn't have to deal with Archlen or any of the other crabby servants and supervisors. At least in the stables, the horses didn't look at her like she was a bug that desperately needed to be exterminated.
Walking down the row of horses, she carried a pale of old apples and carrots from the kitchens that she was feeding to each of the strong animals. They seemed to devour the food in seconds, and Nell wished she had something fresh to give them, something more than just a few puny veggies. Smiling at each horse, Nell finished feeding them and quickly fetched a large round comb. This was her favorite part; combing the horses' beautiful coats. Their shining browns, whites, blacks and grays glistened from the peeping ray's of sunlight from the afternoon, and as Nell led each horse one by one to the center of the stable, she had to try and not fling herself a top of one and disappear from Bailetha forever.
Nell finally reached her favorite horse, Kiche. Kiche was more pony than actual horse; she was a tiny thing, weak in the legs but beautiful all the same. She had a rich brown coat, that glistened and no doubt caused the other horses envy. While Kiche was a puny and scrawny little thing, her coat was brighter and shinier than any of the other horses. Nell had a soft spot for Kiche; no one in the palace ever rode or even paid mind to Kiche, and for a while when Nell first started working in the stables, she wondered why Kiche was even kept around at all. Nell vowed that if one day she had the courage to escape Bailetha, she would use Kiche as her runaway steed.
Though she hoped Kiche wouldn't collapse with the weight of Nell on top of her. As Nell led Kiche to the center of the stable, she soothingly stroked the horses' mane. Kiche whinnied softly, and Nell wished it was possible for horses to smile.
"Hello Kiche," Nell muttered softly. Taking the comb into her right hand, Nell began to softly stroke Kiche's magnificent coat. She began to wonder if Kiche could indeed hold the weight of herself. Nell wasn't very heavy; she was underweight for her height of five-five. She was sure she couldn't have weighed more than someone a little older than a child. Nell looked at Kiche's skinny legs, doubting the horse could hold herself. Glancing back at the doorway of the stables, Nell bit her lip. Surely she could just climb on for a swift second, just to see if Kiche was strong enough to hold her. If the horse showed any signs of struggle, Nell would jump off in an instant.
Curiosity always got the better of Nell, which often led her into trouble, though at this particular moment she tried to forget that last bit. Nell knew how to ride a horse; everyone in Bailetha knew how to ride a horse. She'd been taught how to ride long ago, so she could travel to small villages and markets to pick of necessities for the kitchen and palace. She was a good rider too, mainly because Nell was so light and could easily mold her body close to the horses' back, riding at speeds far faster than any of the noblemen or soldiers could.
"I know you're strong Kiche," Nell told the horse soothingly, placing the comb on the ground. "You've just been treated your whole life like you are nothing but weak, but I know you are strong. I don't think you're a pony." Nell left the horse for a second, to grab a spare saddle. After situating the saddle on Kiche's back, frowning when it looked a little too floppy and big, Nell bit her lip.
"Alright, let's just see, okay?" Carefully and strategically, Nell hoisted herself slowly on Kiche's back and for an instant screwed her eyes up tight, expecting the animal to collapse on the ground. Several moments passed, and when nothing happened, Nell's eyes flew open excitedly. She was still sitting atop of Kiche, and Kiche was still standing, though she did begin to fidget a bit, probably since Kiche had never had the weight of someone on her back.
"See, Kiche!" Nell whispered excitedly. "I knew it." Nell instructed the horse to walk around the open center of the stable a few times, and was delighted when Kiche responded to her leads. Nell reluctantly slipped off the small horses' back, giving the animal a small smile as she led Kiche to her stable booth.
Sighing, she closed Kiche's door and stroked her back. "One day, I promise Kiche. I promise."
Though Nell whispered reassuringly into Kiche's ear, there was a pressing feeling deep in her heart that she was not going to be leaving Bailetha for a long, long time.
Authors Note: Hey guys!! So that's the first chapter. I know there wasn't much action, but I'm just trying to set up the character's daily lives. Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are extremely appreciated. )